


How the Beatles Lost their Virginities

by Johnismyloveforever64



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnismyloveforever64/pseuds/Johnismyloveforever64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are trapped in a hotel bathroom and after John's encounter with a virgin, the boys decide to tell their own stories about how they lost their virginities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marigold the Virgin

It was late August of 1964, and the boys were in the middle of a long tour across America. They were somewhere in the Midwest, and the hoards of fans and press agents surrounded the hotel, and some even broke into the lobby. Their hotel suite was packed with people, most of them theirs, but some of them were people that were invited to spend time with the Beatles; some for publicity and some for pleasure. Paul, George, and Ringo were being taken around by Neil to various different people, chatting cordially, and occasionally being handed coffee or (hopefully) a beer. John, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

In one of the four bedrooms, John had one of those invited guests with him. She was barely eighteen, fresh out of high school, and blonder than any blonde he’d ever seen. She was just his type.

They were making out on the bed, when all of a sudden she stopped.

“I have to confess something to you,” she began, looking scared. She looked at her lap, her fingers curled tightly around the hem of her skirt. He tried to look comforting, but he mostly looked confused. Women usually couldn’t wait to strip their clothes off and just have at; sometimes even before he could get them properly warmed up. But she was the first to be timid and scared.

“What’s wrong...uh…uh…uh?”

“Marigold,” she answered, tightening her grip on her skirt. “And trust me, it has nothing to do with you.” He sighed in relief, and then he froze, looking concerned.

“Then what is it, Mary…?”

“Gold!” She took a deep breath and continued, “John Lennon—“

“It’s just John. In here, I am just John—not a John, but John.” She smiled at his little joke and then let it drop.

“John, I have to confess something.”

“Go ahead.”

He looked so relaxed and reassured, it was only making Marigold more nervous, afraid to see that eagerness fade into anger and bitterness once she let it all slip. Realizing this, she froze up before running into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

He raced after her, knocking on the door and asking if she was alright. “Did I do something wrong?” he went through all of his actions since he met her and checked to see if he did anything crude or, worse yet, unappealing. He checked everything and it seemed to be okay. So, he tried something else. “Well, are you not feeling good?” he asked.

“No, I feel fine.”

He was embarrassed to ask, but there could only be one explanation. It happened to Cyn on occasion and he was completely understanding about it. “Did you get your period?” He asked as carefully as possible, not wanting to make it worse.

“No, it has nothing to do with that.”

“You know, we can try something else just to get things going,” he suggested. “You don’t even have to do me.” to him, it wasn’t a great deal, but it was worth it if he could at least have her.

“It seems like a…reasonable request,” she answered, opening the door. Her mascara was running and her hair was a mess, yet she was still incredibly attractive. He knew then that he had to seal this deal.

“Marigold, take a seat. I can get you something to drink if you like.” He rifled through the bar and found some old scotch. He offered it to her but she shook her head. He had a glass, tried not to choke, and then sat down. “I can get you a glass of water. If you want, my assistant can get something to eat. Are you hungry? Did you have dinner?” she shook her head.

“I’m not hungry,” she answered apologetically.

Silence passed between them.

Finally, he piped up, “So, are you going to college?”

“Secretarial college,” she answered, still sounding timid.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here. I can’t leave, but there are plenty of men out there that will give you a ride home.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” she blurted out.

“I don’t know what you thought that I meant, but really, all I meant was these men can take you home. nothing else crazy like that. Just a ride.”

“I don’t want to go home,” she answered softly, but there was a boldness in her voice that he couldn’t quite understand. Women don’t reject him often, but he knows that if they don’t want to do it, then they don’t. so why would she want to stay here.

“Look, honey, you don’t have to feel guilty for not…you know. I have hands.” he was trying to make her laugh, but it didn’t work. She just looked sadder. “Alright, why don’t I just go down on you? It’s fun for the both of us. Despite what the song says, I can please you without you pleasing me.” She looked confused for a moment. “Please Please Me, the song. it’s about—never mind. The point is, I can take care of you, and be really gentle, and really great, and then you can go home without even touching me. okay? Are we happy now?”

“I want,” she sighed, “I want to have sex with you. Real sex.”

“Okay, then let’s do it. I’ve got a condom on the dresser and a throbber waiting for you. So what’s the hold up?” he exclaimed, standing up.

“I don’t mean to waste your time. it’s just that I’m scared,” she admitted. He sat back down and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Meriwether—“

“Marigold,” she corrected.

“Marigold, you nothing to be afraid of. Sex with me is like sex with any other male—wait, I shouldn’t tell you that.” He cleared his throat and started again. “Marigold, sex with me is like having sex with a Greek God, who is brothers with Marlon Brando and a young Clark Gable.” He tried making her laugh again but it didn’t work. “Alright, in reality, having sex with a Beatle is probably really awesome from your perspective, and yes, I am sure it is intimidating, but trust me, I will take care of you, as if you were a virgin.” She looked at him with big sad eyes.

“But I am a virgin!” she cried, and then she laughed, and then she actually cried.

“No, no! I am not laughing at you. I was just so worried that you were like beside yourself with fear about having sex with me, but really, you’re just scared.” she still looked upset. “Look, sweetie, if you are ready to have sex, and you want your first time to be with me, then I will gladly do that with you. If you’re not, then I will have my road manager—who is a very nice guy, who will not try anything with you—drive you home. if you want, you can stay and chat, have a drink, maybe watch a little teley. It’s really up to you.” She looked at him wearily.

“You really would have sex with a virgin.”

“I don’t see why not. I was a virgin once.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, trying to giggle like Ann Margret but failing tremendously. She cleared her throat and continued, “It’s just, I thought that you’d be turned off by a silly little virgin like me, especially since you are so…” she looked at him with wide eyes, “experienced.”

“Well, yes, I am experienced, but I do know how to handle myself. we can take this slow. Foreplay has become my specialty—and I really meant that about pleasing you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make your first sexual experience as nice and easy as possible, and not awkward.”

“Was yours?”

“Not at all,” he laughed, and finally, she was able to laugh too. “So, do you want to get started?” She nodded and he leaned in to kiss her. He slowly pushed her back on the bed, kissing her as gingerly as possible. he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, and wearily, she took hers off as well. “I’m not going to hurt ya,” he said into her ear. She nodded and finished getting undressed.

When they were both fully naked, he went to work, making sure to be very gentle, doing slow and easy movements. He often asked if she was okay and she always answered yes. When they both finished, he rolled over, completely exhausted. They were both covered in sweat, their hair soaked as if they both came out of the shower. He smiled at her.

“So, are you okay?” She nodded a yes, and he kissed her head. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” And she nodded again.

He walked her out, told her that he had a great time and she returned it, before passing her off to Mal, who gave him a little congratulatory pat on the back. when he turned around, he found the other three looking less congratulatory. More angry and bitter.

“Hey, guys, how was your night?”

“John, did you honestly spend the last two hours having sex with the honest woman in Ohio?” Paul responded in outrage.

“I thought we were in Indiana?” George asked.

“Same thing,” he replied like it was obvious. “That’s beside the point. The point is, you abandoned us while we had to talk to the mayor of this nothing town, a dying girl, and a penguin. A fucking penguin, John!”

“Seriously, calm down. I only took that long, because she was very timid.”

“Timid? With you? I doubt it,” George responded.

“Yeah, I’ve seen girls take their clothes off in the cab—in the cab!” Ringo added.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous, but—“

Just then, their conversation was cut off by Brian directing them to the city council president. They quickly made up an excuse and darted off to the bathroom, locking the door behind them. it was their typical escape in hotel rooms. No one usually bothered them in there, because they figured they were doing something really important—and private. They weren’t. they were just hiding from the hoards of undesirables who desperately sought their attention.


	2. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys hide away in the bathroom and decide to pass the time by telling stories of how they lost their virginities.

Inside the bathroom, the boys got settled in various positions. Hotel suite bathrooms were usually much larger than the average loo. The bathtub was usually big enough to fit two comfortably, and there was enough floor space for the four of them to squeeze in together if they wanted to. Usually, they spread out a little more. John took the toilet, so he was seated slightly above everyone else, Paul sat on the floor facing him, so he could establish that he was just underneath him, and Ringo and George sat in the tub together, usually having to squeeze in very tightly. tonight, was different. They knew that Brian would be out looking for them soon, and they could only pretend to be taking some sort of communal crap for so long, so they needed an alternate excuse. 

“You figure he’s only going to give us about fifteen minutes before he starts banging on the door,” Ringo pointed out.

“Also, the communal crap idea is getting a little stale. I mean, how much longer can we really sell the idea that we actually shit together—like in the same room. It’s getting weird, guys,” George added. 

“I know, I know, but we have to think of something. I’m really tired after all that, and I really don’t feel like talking to some stiff for a half an hour about oil prices, or worse, dog collars,” John replied. 

“Why is it that WASPS always have a particular interest in dog collars?” Paul wondered aloud. 

“I don’t know, but if I hear one more WASP say that gold plated collars are better than crystal I am literally going to throw a wasp nest at them,” George replied. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Paul asked. they all looked at John.

“Why is that I have to always think up the plans.”

“Because you’re the planner,” Paul pointed out. “Now, tell us, our lovely leader, what we should do to keep out the WASPs—and Brian.” 

John sighed in resignation and stood up. He started pacing the room, and after looking at George and Ringo sitting in their usual placement (the tub) he suddenly got a brilliant idea. 

“Boys, we may have to sacrifice a little bit of our reputation, but I think I’ve thought of something that will get us at least an hour of peace—if not more.”

“John, we’ve been selling the idea that we take shits together for the past five weeks. Do you really think there’s anything that you can suggest that would actually diminish our reputation any further?” Paul pointed out.

“Communal bath anyone?” He announced with a devilish grin.

“You want us to take a bath together?” George asked incredulously. “But I had one yesterday.”

“We’re not actually going to do it—I mean, we could, that would be more authentic. Especially considering Brian has a tendency to pry open the locked door with Mal’s fingers,” John pointed out. 

“I am not getting in the bath with any of you!” Ringo exclaimed. “I don’t want you guys’ dirt on me. it’s disgusting—especially you, John, with your virgin blood still on you.”

“Okay, she didn’t bleed on me. this isn’t a fourteen year old boy’s nightmare.” 

“It’s called a figure of speech, and my statement still stands—no dirt.”

“Fine, why don’t we each bathe separately,” Paul pointed out. “Besides, I don’t think we can all fit, anyway.”

“Can we?!” So, it was decided. They would prove that they could all fit in the bathtub at the same time, and Ringo would just have to shut up about each other’s dirt. 

They filled the tub up, as they were waiting for it finish, they heard a knock at the door. Paul, in just a towel, peaked out.

“We’re getting ready, what?”

“Getting ready? For what? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Yeah, but there’s people out there, and we’re all disheveled from the concert. We need to spruce up a bit.” 

“What are you talking about? You look fine.”

“And wait, how are the four of you going to bathe at once?”

“You know we’re really close right.” And he slammed the door. 

Once the tub was filled up, they stripped completely and hopped in. they instantly realized that it was incredibly awkward, considering they had no elbow room, and the only way that they could truly fit together was if they sat on top of each other, which none of them were willing to do, so they hopped out, but left the water running and the drain open, so it’d seem like they were still in there. They sat on the floor in a little circle, wrapped in towels and shivering.   
John did however, jump back in the tub to quickly rinse off what was left of his little rendezvous with the virgin, which led to questions from the group about her. 

“So, what was that little cutie’s name, hm?” Ringo asked out of curiosity. 

“Uh, Mary…Mary-something. Meriwether, I believe,” he replied. 

“Meriwether!” The other three exclaimed. 

“No wonder she was a virgin,” George murmured. 

“Hey, shut up, you saw what a knock-out she was.”

“Which is how she got John Lennon to take her virginity,” Ringo added. 

“Guys, maybe we shouldn’t make fun of her, I mean, someone took our virginity, right?”

“Yes, but we’re not women, so it’s not a big deal,” George pointed out.

“Yeah, I mean, who even remembers their first time,” Ringo added. 

“I do, and I bet you guys do too, you’re just being stupid about it.”

“Do you really want us to sit around and talk about our first sexual experiences?” Ringo asked incredulously. “Besides, I think we’ve been over this before.”

“No we haven’t, and considering you’re the newest to the group, we don’t actually know your sexual history,” John countered. Everyone looked at him.

“You want me to tell you how I lost my virginity?”

“Either that, or you admit that you’re such a man-whore that you can’t even remember your first time,” Paul responded. Ringo groaned and agreed.

“Fine, I will tell you my story, but you all have to tell me yours as well.”

“Agreed.” 

“And no laughing and no rude comments.”

“It depends on how embarrassing your story is, but go on..."


	3. Ringo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo describes his first sexual experience with many interruptions from the guys.

“I was sixteen and I was at the movies with my girlfriend—“  
“Ooh!”  
“Shut up!”  
“Anyway, I was at the movies with my girlfriend and the picture they showed was really boring. I think it was foreign, but I couldn’t tell, because they had English accents and were in period clothes.”  
“Are you sure it wasn’t Shakespeare?” John cut in.  
John, let me finish!” He yelled, getting really annoyed. John gave him a real smug look and Ringo just sighed and continued with his story, “Okay, so we were at the movies and we were getting real bored.  
“Wait?” George exclaimed.  
“What?” Ringo demanded, losing his patience.  
“What was her name?”  
“Barbara. Barbara Carini. She was Italian, and a real nice broad. I had been dating her for about a month.”  
“A month? You dated her a month and you hadn’t stuck it her yet?” John snorted. Now Ringo was really irritated. John slapped him on the back. “You know I’m joking, right?” Ringo glared at him. “Whatever. Just go on with your story.”  
“Yeah, come on!” Paul urged. “Tell us how you pulled it off.”  
“Well, she was nice and I was in a band—“  
“Rory Storm?” George guessed.  
“No, it was another one. I was just starting out. Anyway, we she had gone to a lot of our shows and I started to notice her. She was real into me, and I was way into her, so one night, after the show, I came up to her and her friends and asked if she needed someone to walk her home. she nodded and then waved to her friends, who just giggled at the two of us. When I got to her door, I asked her to the movies the next day—“  
“And you fucked her at the movies right?”  
“No, well, not then.”  
“Ooh!”  
“Shut up!” He forced himself to forget about it and move on. “So, we started dating after that. She was real nice, like I said, so I was careful not to push her too far. I didn’t wanna scare her, you know. She was too nice. Plus, I had never done it before or anything, so who was I to push her to do anything.”  
“I have a question?” John interrupted.  
“Yes, John?” Ringo asked tiredly.  
“Why hadn’t you lost your virginity by that point?”  
“Well, I was in hospital for two years, up until around my fifteenth birthday. So, I didn’t have a lot of experience with girls. Playing drums was my only in and I hadn’t even been doing that that long. Plus, I was kind of waiting to be with someone special.”  
“Aw,” George and Paul said together.  
“Anyway, I hadn’t really had any other girlfriends so I was kind of new. So, in a way I didn’t want to be pushed too far either. So, we both mutually decided to wait—though we never actually said it. though, we did other stuff. She’d, you know—“  
“You can say blow job. It’s fine. We did write a song about it,” John pointed out. Paul nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah, well, she would go down on me and I’d go down on her. She never gave me the signal to go farther so we just did that. But this night was different, I could tell. She had put on more makeup than usual, including this dark red lipstick that was just intoxicating. She had on a matching red dress under a leather jacket. She had never dressed like that before: ever. Her skirts always went halfway down the calf, but this one was just passed the knee. She was also acting differently. She wouldn’t let go of my hand, even when I went to butter our popcorn. And while we were waiting in line to get our tickets, she just grabbed me and planted one right on me. it was very strange. But in a good way—a great way.  
“So, we’re watching the boring Shakespeare/foreign film, when all of the sudden she just drops down to the floor. I crawl down there with her and ask her what’s going on.  
‘Ritchie, I really hate this movie.’  
“So, then I said, ‘You picked it?’ She just laughed and kissed me—hard. I was so appalled that I almost didn’t notice her hand cupped around my penis, over the pants of course. But then suddenly, I heard a zipper go down. Of course I grinned like an idiot and she laughed some more. Then she spun me around and whispered, ‘I want you to moon this entire theater.’  
‘The whole theater?’ She nodded, biting her lip. She batted her eyes and that was it, I was putty in her hands. So, I tiptoed up to the top and then dropped to the floor. I could see her from our seats and she gave me a little wink. I flashed her a thumbs up and then crawled over to the projector, where I spotted the technician, reading a comic and drinking a pepsi. So, I saw it as my moment. I rose up from the ground, my arse facing the projector, and very quickly, my eyes closed, I pulled my trousers down. A second later I heard an audible gasp coming from the theater, followed by some cheers, a few screams, and a lot of whistling. I peeked up and saw my bar ass on the screen, covering up some broad in a toga. I heard the projectionist yell something from behind me and spotted an usher coming right towards me, wielding a flashlight. I quickly abandoned ship, pulling up my pants and running out the emergency exit, setting off the alarm. Barbara chased after me, giggling like mad.  
“We managed to get away just in time, getting lost somewhere in the crowd. I asked if she wanted to see a different movie at a different theater—it was the only thing I could afford to do, and she told me that she had a different idea.”  
“Ooh, I think I know where this is going,” George exclaimed, getting excited.  
Just then, the door burst open and Mal’s large frame appeared in the doorway.  
“Boys, I think there’s a state senator here. He says he’s related to a Kennedy—“  
“Not now, Mal, Ringo was about to have sex!” John exclaimed, pushing him out the door and slamming it in his face. Mal stood befuddled on the other side. After receiving no explanation he simply walked away, dumbfounded.  
“Ringo, please continue your story,” John told him. He grinned, happy he was finally receiving their full attention.  
“Yeah, so we were leaving the movie theater and suddenly she tells me that she has an idea.  
‘Why don’t we take my car and we can drive to the empty parking lot?’  
“You see, there was this empty parking lot just a few blocks away from the movie theater. The contractors were going to build a department store there, but they realized what part of Liverpool they were in so they just never built it. but the parking lot stayed, and because it was supposed to fit a department store, it was extra large. It was pretty much make-out city. Everyone knew that if you went there you were either going to get to at least first base. No one ever went there to talk.”  
“Ooh, hubba-hubba,” Paul said, getting real excited.  
“That’s what I was thinking. So we drive to the parking lot and find that it’s full.”  
“Oh no!” Paul exclaimed.  
“Yeah, it was around Valentine’s Day so there were a lot of people making out.”  
“So what did you do?” John asked urgently.  
“We drove all around the city and couldn’t find one parking lot that was right. I wasn’t sure if this was going to be more than what we’d been doing it, but I knew it would be special so I had to pick a good spot. I didn’t want it to be too public. Any old parking lot wouldn’t do. So we kept driving and driving until I suggested we go down to the water. She thought that was a great idea and then bit my ear. I sped up the car then and took us straight to the docks.”  
“Did someone see you?”  
“No, no one was around at night. All we had to do was pull our car up to the docks, turn all the lights off and go,” he concluded.  
“Well?” They all asked at once.  
“What happened next?”George demanded.  
“Yeah, did you put your hand up her skirt?” John added.  
“You can’t jump into third base. You have to start with first,” Paul pointed out.  
“We can’t change history, Paul.”  
“Let me tell it then!” Ringo shouted. they all waited for him to go on. “Okay, so there we were by the docks. We were holding hands, but that was it. she didn’t say anything. She was just looking straight ahead out the windshield, stone-faced.  
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked her.  
“Then she smiled, didn’t say a word, and then just kissed me passionately, her tongue dipping deep into my throat. She climbed onto my lap, her hands wrapped around my neck and her fingers intertwined into my hair. Her ass was pressed against my crotch, slowly grinding into it. I started to grind back, slowly but with vigor. She commanded me to move faster, harder. I obliged, dry humping her like there was no tomorrow. And then suddenly, she stopped me. she pulled away and looked as if she were about to leave. Then she bit my lip, hard, so it’d bleed.  
‘Tell me, Ritchie, do you like me?’  
‘Yes, yes, I like you,’ I told her with urgency. She grinned devilishly.  
‘Do you like all of me?’  
‘Yes, every bit of you. You’re wonderful.’  
“Then she says to me, ‘How can you like all of me when you haven’t seen it.’ so, she rips off her leather jacket and throws it in the backseat. She then slips off the sleeves of her dress and pull it down, so her lacy black bra was exposed, but she kept the rest of the dress on. She sat there for a second, showing off her perfect figure. Then, she climbed over the seat into the back, where she gestured for me to come back. I practically leapt over the seat, leaving my jacket and my shoes behind.  
She was lying on her back, stretched out over the bench, one foot resting on the front seat and the other pressed against the window. She slipped off the rest of her dress, leaving her in her panties. I took the direction, and began to unbutton my shirt and then my pants. Soon, we were both in our underwear.  
That’s when we started to make-out, hard. She kept biting my tongue and my lip and if my teenaged brain wasn’t so filled with lust I’d be in pain. After a few minutes she pulled away again, asked me if I had protection and I told her I didn’t. she said wait a minute and grabbed a condom from her purse. I didn’t know how to put it on, but I wasn’t about to admit it. It took a few minutes for me to figure out, and while I was doing that, she was waiting impatiently. Finally, I got it. She unclipped her bra and tossed it aside and then slipped off her panties. I couldn’t believe that we were both completely naked in the back of her car, but I didn’t care at this point. All I could think about was sex, sex with Barbara Carini, the hottest Italian in all of Liverpool, and by far the hottest girl in the neighborhood. Also, SEX!  
“So, she let me penetrate her—“  
“Okay, don’t use words like penetrate. You can describe your first sexual experience, but you can’t do it in a gross way,” John objected.  
“Okay, so she let me go inside of her, and it felt awesome. She was very rough. Commanding me to do it harder and harder, and I obliged as best as I could. I was nervous, obviously, but I managed to pull it off. I tried being gentle, but she clearly didn’t want to be so I got a little rough.”  
“What’d you do?”  
“I bit her tummy.”  
“Her tummy? Why? That’s not a thing!” John responded.  
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure what to do. She kept asking to make it rough, and that’s all I could think to do, since she was so into biting and it was the only thing that I could reach from my position.”  
“So, you bit her?”  
“Yep.”  
“Did you break the skin?” George asked eagerly.  
“No, but I think I may have left a bruise. But she was thrilled about it. she kept pointing to it and saying, ‘yeah, proof!’ so, I guess I did a good job.”  
“So, how long did you last?” John asked knowingly.  
“Three and a half minutes. But they were great minutes.”  
“That’s not too bad,” George commented.  
“It wasn’t. it was actually really great, really, really great.” He was smiling dreamily. John chuckled.  
“You’re like a chick, man.”  
“Oh, yeah, why don’t you tell us your story?”  
“Is that really necessary?”  
“Oh, I think it is.”


	4. John's Graveyard Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tells the story of his quickie in a graveyard to his then girlfriend Barb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH I KNOW IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS!! Sorry about that. I honestly lost inspiration for this fic and just kind of abandoned it, but recently I got some inspiration and decided to pick it back up. So hopefully the last two chapters will come soon.

“Alright, fine, I’ll tell you,” John grumbled, “I was fifteen and I was hanging out with a friend of mine, who I was sort of seeing.”

“Sort of seeing?” George asked incredulously. 

“Well, we were sort of on again off again. We’d get together, then a week later we’d break up, then another week later we were on again.”

“Okay, and who was this mystery lady?” Paul probed.

“Her name was Barbara, Barbara Baker—“

“Wait!” George called out, “you had Ringo both screwed babes named Barbara?”

Ringo blushed, but John just scoffed.

“Whatever, it’s a common name—“

“No, no, this is really weird. Do you think they all do it alike—“

“Shut up, Paul, Christ, let me tell me story.”

“Anyway, Barbara and I just got over a fight—“

“Wait, what was the fight over?” Paul demanded.

“It doesn’t matter—“

“—Details, we want details!” George replied.

“Fine, we were fighting over some stupid thing I said. We were at the dance hall, and I saw this girl, Macy Rein, and I said I’d grind Macy Rein—not directly to her—but she heard me. Granted, that was pretty bad.”

“I’ll say,” Paul muttered. 

“But, I only said it because I couldn’t resist the wordplay. I didn’t mean it—Macy Rein smoked like six packs a day, and I wasn’t about to kiss that.”

“But you’d grind it,” Paul replied, chaffed.

“Are we about to have the same fight I had when I was fifteen?”

“I’m just surprised she slept with you after that.”

“Well, something sort of weird happened.”

“Of course it did,” Ringo said flatly, laying flat against the tiled floor. 

“You see, my uncle had died the year before, and I had moved on and all, but Mimi wanted me to visit his grave site, because father’s day was coming up, and he was like my dad so—“

“Aaaawwww!” George and Paul awed. 

John rolled his eyes, and then continued his story:

“Anyway, I was never all that good at visiting graves. Like, hanging out in a graveyard, and jumping out from behind tombstones I was good with, but actually having to stand over a grave and say your goodbyes or whatever was always quite awkward. And well, I didn’t want to bring any of my mates around, cause they’d think I was a wuss or something.”

“We wouldn’t have,” Paul said quietly.

“But I didn’t know you then, my life sucked back then, but it’s alright now,” he said, brushing Paul’s hair in front of his eyes. Paul pushed it back and glared at John, smirking all the while.

“Anyway, I asked Barbara to come with, because I needed the moral support. And she must’ve thought this was adorable and vulnerable, because the Macy Rein comment was   
forgotten, and like a minute after I called her, she showed up at my house, chapel veil on, and an appropriate but still sexy amount of red lipstick on.

“So, we go to the cemetery. I have the stupid wreath that Mimi made me bring, and Barbara is holding a box of tissues. I told her I didn’t need them, but she totally ignored me, and carried them with her like I was about to burst into tears at any moments. Needless to say, I was not in the best mood. Then, we got to the cemetery, and for a while we walked around, trying to find my uncle’s stone. ‘I think we already checked here,’ I said as we passed Doris Gladys for the fourth time. ‘I swear Barb, we’ve been around the block already.’ Normally she’d argue with me, and it’d go on for twenty minutes, but today she just sort of shrugged. 

“Eventually we did find it, underneath, a willow tree. ‘Do you need some space, John?’ She asked quietly. ‘Not really,’ and I placed the wreath on the ground, right under where it said, ‘George Smith, businessman, husband, and a great uncle.’ And for whatever reason, I just said, ‘the best uncle—‘ like out loud like some freak. And Barbara, she just looked at me with these sad eyes, and damn she looked cute. ‘Johnny,’ she whispered, squeezing my hand, ‘it’s okay to miss him.’ I looked into her eyes, which were like clear blue ponds and I kissed her. She kissed me back, her lips soft and gentle. ‘I’m here,’ she kept saying, and I kept saying, ‘I know, Barb, you’re in my arms.’ And it was at that moment, where she just suddenly sat down on the grass under the willow tree, her cornflower colored hair blowing in the breeze along with the wispy leaves.”

“Shit this is like poetry,” Ringo said to George.

“—and she looked up at me with the most vulnerable Bambi-like eyes. ‘Take me,’ she said, ‘right here, right now. I want you.’ And I was not about to say no to that. So I knelt down in front of her and kissed her again, slowly, carefully, waiting for her to say no, waiting for her to slap my hand away, like so many girls before her. But she didn’t. She just kept pulling me in closer, so our chests pressed against each other, her voluptuous breasts pressing into my lanky teenaged chest. My breathing hitched, and I pulled her closer, pushing her had back so I could kiss her neck. She moaned, and clawed at my arms, then ripped off my jacket, and threw it over my uncle’s grave. She fell back against the tree, her knees spread apart, her white cotton panties peaking out. I dropped down, so my elbows were touching the ground, and I crawled slowly towards them. She yanked them off, and I licked her clitoris until she moaned so loudly she could wake the dead. And once that was done I pulled away, expecting it to be over. I even put my jacket back on, but she just said, with all the innocence of a school girl, ‘why are you doing that?’ and she ripped it off again and I knew that this was it. 

“And like I had imagined doing so many times, I pushed my dick passed her clitoris, except unlike in every fantasy ever, I couldn’t quite get inside. It was like everything just came to a screeching halt. She kept apologizing, but I told her not to worry, that I’d figure this out. So I switched positions so I was on my knees again, and I tried licking her pussy so it’d open, well, it only opened slightly—honestly, it was like getting into a mouse’s ear hole—and then, you know, I had the sex.”

“Wait, you can’t just give us all those details and stop there!” Paul exclaimed, moving to the tub.

“Well, do you really want to hear about all the thrusting?”

“Yes!” Paul, George, and Ringo answered at the same time.

So with a heavy sigh, John continued:

“Alright, so once I finally got inside, it was pretty standard. There was thrusting, and she moaned a lot, and I moaned a lot. But Barb wasn’t really interested in much else. She just sort of laid there, sunbathing in the English sun, her chapel veil around her like a hellish halo. She was sexy—don’t get me wrong—but she didn’t actually do anything. I had to do all of it, and by the time it was over, I was exhausted.”

“How long?” George asked eagerly.

“Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds,” John bragged.

The other three were impressed.

“And what did you do after?”

“What do you mean? After we were both done, I helped her fix her chapel veil, I uncovered my uncle’s tombstone—“

“—awkward—“ Ringo said.

“—a little, but then again, we were both already quite pink as we headed home.”

“And what happened to this lucky lady?” Paul inquired.

“I met Thelma Pickles at art college, and—“

“Wait, you dated someone named Thelma Pickles!” Ringo exclaimed. George and Ringo snickered, but John, turning pink, huffed. 

“Yes, yes, I dated someone with the surname of Jewish cucumber. Can we shut up about it?”

“Nope,” the other three answered at the same time, in hysterics. John sank lower in the tub, rolling his eyes. 

“Man, I remember that,” Paul mused, “she used to cling to you.”

“Really?” Ringo asked.

“Oh yeah, if any of us wanted to go to the movies, Thelma had to come along—“

“—and she had to get the jumbo sized popcorn—“

“—and the big drink.”

“Yet somehow she had an amazing figure, better than that Cecile you dated.”

“Hey, don’t say anything about Cecile!”

“Well tell them, then," John said, "because Ringo didn’t know you then, all about that sweet bird called Cecile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fictionalized account of John's first sexual experience. Though, Barbara Baker is a real person and was his girlfriend during his teenage years (pre-Cyn and art school), this is only based on an anecdote that John had sex in a graveyard as a teenager. It may have been her, may not of been. Not throwing shade, Barb.


End file.
